


The Specter

by islandsmoke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Grieving, Hopeful Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-13
Updated: 2011-06-13
Packaged: 2020-03-08 16:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18898273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandsmoke/pseuds/islandsmoke
Summary: After the final battle, Lupin carried Snape's body from the rubble. In his grief, he saw Snape in his nightmares, then the specter started haunting him when he was awake. Or was it an hallucination? Was he finally going over the edge?





	The Specter

**Author's Note:**

> Betas: busaikko, Hogwarts Honey

~~~~

_Malfoy's manor was a shambles – what was left of it, that was. Lupin hauled himself to his feet, wiped a hand across his face and tried to peer through the smoke and dust. He didn't notice the smear of blood on his hand. People moved slowly through the debris, clothes torn and faces dirty. More than a few were injured. Harry, Hermione and Ron huddled together with their arms around each other. Neville sat on the floor, clutching a limp and broken Luna, tears making tracks in the dirt on his cheeks as he rocked back and forth in silence._

_Voldemort might have disintegrated when Harry hit him with the final curse, but there were plenty of other bodies in the destruction. Lupin searched, throwing aside rubble and looking at still faces. Lupin searched, trying to find the face of the one who had turned; the one in the mask who had fought off the other Death Eaters, allowing Harry to get to Voldemort._

_Lupin found him, half buried under the ruin of the staircase. He brushed the dust from the lank hair and lifted the mask. Snape's blank eyes stared up at him._

With a gasp, Lupin sat up in bed, heart pounding and sweat running down his face. Outside the open window, the summer night was silent and still. Lupin pushed his damp hair off his forehead and looked around, only slightly reassured by the familiarity of his room. Several times a week he was awakened by this nightmare; several times a week for over a year he had bolted from sleep, the image of Snape's still face hanging before his eyes. Lupin flopped back on the bed, knowing sleep wouldn't come – grateful in that it meant he wouldn't dream again.

When he came back to Hogwarts to teach Lupin had realized his attraction to Snape had not diminished in the years since their school days. Still of moderate height and leanly built, Snape none-the-less had an air of quiet authority about him. Perhaps it came with teaching, perhaps with age, but when he had stopped just inside the door of Dumbledore's office that first day and stared at Lupin for several long seconds, Lupin felt a tingling of awareness in every nerve ending in his body. Mostly, Snape ignored him, as he did the others, and kept to himself. After a few attempts to engage the man in conversation, Lupin had given up, settling for being polite and friendly.

Only one thing seemed to ruffle that dark calm, and that thing could make Snape come unglued altogether. The mere mention of Sirius Black was enough to set him off. The times when the Order met at Grimmauld Place, Snape seemed to revert to his school years, spitting insults and venom and trading threat for threat with his old enemy. Lupin had, just as in school, retreated. His loyalty to the ruin that was his old friend was – _had to be_ – stronger than any attraction to the brooding professor, any memory of events past. Only after Sirius' death had he allowed himself to watch Snape again, watch and speculate. While he thought he was being subtle about it, there were occasions when Snape would turn and meet his gaze, the unreadable eyes regarding him for long seconds before turning away. Such encounters always left Lupin with butterflies in his stomach as he tried to puzzle out what Snape might be thinking.

What he might be remembering.

Lupin was stunned when Snape had killed Dumbledore. At first he didn't believe it, but the evidence was irrefutable, and once his mind had accepted the reality of it, it moved on to seek out reasons. Dumbledore had trusted Snape implicitly, and Lupin found, somewhat to his surprise, that he did as well. He wasn't sure when it had come to be, but he realized that he did not for a moment share in the condemnation of the Potions Master. Perhaps that is why, late one rainy June night as Lupin stood watch at number four Privet Drive, he found himself shoved roughly face-first into a fence and relieved of his wand.

"Fine guard you are." The deep voice rumbled in his ear as the man released him.

" _Severus._ " Lupin instinctively kept his voice low as he turned to face his attacker.

"I have information for the Order." The tip of Snape's wand was at Lupin's throat.

Lupin swallowed. "Then lower your wand and speak. I'll not curse you – even if I have my wand."

Snape studied him for a long moment, then not only lowered his wand, but gave Lupin back his own. Surprise kept Lupin from saying anything. Snape looked around, then started to speak in a low voice. He went on for ten minutes, his thoughts as organized as any lecture. Times, places, names, passwords – everything they would need to know to get past the guards, destroy the last Horcrux and put Harry in a position to do what he needed to do.

"Make sure he does it." Snape spat the last words as he took one more look around.

Lupin nodded as Snape turned away. "Severus?"

Snape glanced over his shoulder.

"Be careful."

Snape looked at him for a long moment. "And you."

And then Snape was gone, leaving Lupin standing in the pouring rain with a feeling of unreality and the burning question of how to deliver the information in a way that the others would believe him. Doubt never crossed his mind, but he knew the rest of the Order would not feel the same way. He went to Minerva and the rest, as they say, was history.

It was Minerva who found him carrying Snape's limp body out of the wreckage, Minerva who had taken it from him, convincing him that they needed to hide it for protection from those who did not know the truth. He had not seen Snape's body again – at least, not in its corporal form.

Nightmares had haunted him from the first, and he would awaken sobbing, huddled in a ball under the bedclothes, feeling a sense of such desolation that he wasn't sure he'd survive. He knew it was unreasonable, that he and Snape had not had anything a sane person might recognize as a relationship – were not even what most would call friends – but he couldn't shake the feeling of a connection lost, of something very important gone forever.

Then, as exhaustion, poor eating habits and more than a little firewhiskey started to take their toll, he had started seeing Snape when he was awake. The silent form in the bedraggled Death Eater robes stared with dead eyes from the dark corners of rooms, from the edges of mirrors, and even – once – from behind a display of vegetable marrows at the greengrocer's. He became an almost daily visitation as Lupin moved through his life. At first it had terrified him, but then he thought maybe if he ignored him, Snape would go away. It wasn't as though ghosts weren't reasonably common; he'd just never had one haunting him before. It was a ghost, of course; he was sure he wasn't hallucinating. That would be madness.

Shivering slightly in the wake of the nightmare that had woken him, Lupin padded down the stairs in his bare feet only to stop midway, staring at the light spilling from the kitchen. With a sigh, he continued. He must have left the light on – again. He seemed to be getting more and more forgetful; less and less able to care for himself. Not that it mattered to him. Little had, this past year.

He entered the kitchen to see Snape standing at the far side of the table, his body stiff with tension. Ignoring him, he filled the kettle and set it on the hob.

"You look different this time." He turned and looked at the silent figure. "Usually, you're dressed in the torn and bloody robes I found you in." His weary eyes took in the clean hair, tidy charcoal trousers and light blue shirt. "I must say, it's an improvement." He turned back to take a mug from the drain board, not caring, at the moment, if he were crazy or not. He had a headache and just wanted tea.

"Lupin?" The soft voice was hesitant.

Lupin yelped and dropped the mug, spinning around and gripping the edge of the sink behind him for support as he felt the blood drain from his head. "No." He pointed a shaking finger at Snape. "Don't you start talking to me! Isn't it bad enough that you haunt me, sleeping and waking? Why me, anyway? Why don't you go haunt Hogwarts?"

"You've seen me before?" Snape's brows drew together in a frown.

"Over, and over, and over." Lupin's laugh had an edge to it as he turned back to right his mug and take a tea bag from the canister. "As you bloody well know. Am I not going insane quickly enough for you? You've come to tip me over the edge?" He poured milk into his mug as the kettle began to whistle. Tea fixed, he turned to face Snape. "I presume that, as a specter, you don't drink tea?"

"Is that what you think?" Snape cocked his head. "You look like hell, by the way. What's wrong with you."

"What's _wrong_ with me?" Lupin started to shake with anger. "Other than I haven't slept for months? Other than I...." Lupin clamped his mouth shut and glared.

"I'm... not a ghost, you know." Snape was frowning.

Lupin's eyes narrowed as he set the mug behind him. "Don't you dare! Don't you _fucking_ dare...! I carried your broken body out of the rubble that night. I _grieved_ for you, you bastard. And what do you do? You drag me screaming from my sleep – when I can get it – you lurk in corners staring with your dead eyes, and now... _now_ you're going to torment me further by pretending to be alive? And for what?" Lupin waved his arms. "For _fun_?" Lupin stalked to the kitchen door. "Well I'm not having it, I am not so crazy as that. Not yet. Ghost or hallucination, you – " He pointed at Snape. "Are _not_ real." He extinguished the light and strode up the steps without a backward glance.

Lupin flung himself on his bed and was instantly asleep; a deep dreamless sleep the like of which he hadn't experienced for years. He awoke to a room full of sunshine feeling rested and strangely content. And confused.

Memories of the odd conversation in the kitchen came back to him and he groaned as he rubbed his face. Being haunted at least made some sort of sense, though he hadn't had the nerve to ask anyone else if they'd seen Snape's ghost. The other alternative was an hallucination, and even that might make sense up to a point – he _was_ rather a wreck – but when the hallucination had became clean, well dressed and conversational? No. But Snape was _dead,_ so....

He had to be going insane; it was the only explanation.

~~

For two nights, Lupin's sleep was free of terrors, and no dead-eyed specters lurked in the corners watching him as he went about his daily business. He went to bed the third night with a small smile on his face, actually looking forward to sleep for the first time in months.

_The lean, hard body pressed him against the cold stone of a deserted corridor. He gripped the front of Snape's robes as their tongues fought in a kiss for dominance, but when Snape turned him, lifted his robes and thrust roughly inside, he only moaned his pleasure, pushing back, begging for more, deeper, harder. And Snape gave him all he asked for in that quick, efficient fuck against the wall, bringing Lupin off with a few hard strokes so that they soared, then tumbled together._

_When Lupin turned to his lover, what he saw was not the flushed cheeks and slightly quirked lips he expected, but a cadaverous face with slack mouth and wide, dead eyes._

Lupin woke with a cry of anguish, then lay weeping, punching his pillow in anger and grief.

When the storm of emotion had passed, Lupin dragged his exhausted body out of bed and down to the kitchen. The light was on again, but this time Lupin knew he hadn't left it that way. Sure enough, Snape was standing by the far wall. At least he was once again looking well and stunningly ordinary – if rather Muggle – in jeans and a black jumper.

"Go away." Lupin set about making tea.

"I heard you cry out."

"From all the way in..." Lupin waved a hand "... wherever you are when you're not haunting me?"

"I told you...."

"Yes, yes, you're not dead." Lupin finished making his tea and turned, almost surprised to see Snape still there. "Except that you are. I told you. It was I who pulled your body from the wreckage. You. Were. Dead. And the dead don't rise, so explain yourself."

"Draught of Living Death," Snape said tersely.

Lupin froze. He had not been prepared for an actual answer. Sure, you could carry on a conversation with a ghost, but they didn't usually change their appearance. An hallucination, on the other hand.... But what...? Lupin's mind clicked into full alert. What was going on here?

"Minerva and I made the arrangements in case, by some miracle, I wasn't killed outright."

"If you were in communication with Minerva, why bring information to me?" Remus snapped the question at him.

"I had an unexpected opportunity to speak with her just before the attack. Before that, you were easier to get to, and..." Snape drew a deep breath. "I trusted you."

Lupin's eyes narrowed. "Since when?"

Snape winced. "Since I had to. Since I had been told I could. Since I had seen for myself that I could." He lowered his gaze. "Since I _wanted_ to."

Lupin's eyebrows rose. "Why would you _want_ to? You didn't exactly like me."

Snape shifted, but met Lupin's gaze. "I didn't hate you."

This was too surreal, and anger flooded Lupin's body. "You had funny ways of showing it, not the least of which was making it abundantly clear that the occasional fuck did not a relationship make." He slammed his mug on the work top. "You insisted on hating me for my mistakes – no matter that I apologized a dozen times over – and my friends – all dead – and my lycanthropy – which I couldn't exactly help – and, as near as I could tell, simply for existing.

"Do you remember that you always had your wand out when you gave me one of your signature fast fucks? Your _other_ wand?" Lupin sneered. "You held it in your teeth while you brought me off, but you didn't put it away when you fucked me, so _don't_ tell me how much you trusted me."

Lupin turned his back and rinsed his mug.

"That was... before." Snape's voice was tight. "Your friends may be dead, Lupin, but so are mine, and directly or indirectly, _I murdered mine._ " He ran a hand through his hair. "Do you not think that might change a man?"

His back still turned, Lupin raised his hands. "Stop. Just stop. I will not argue with a ghost."

_"I'm not dead."_ Snape's voice quivered with emotion.

Lupin whirled. "You are to me."

Snape drew back as if slapped, and Lupin stalked from the room, extinguishing the light with a muttered, _Nox._

~~

The full moon came three days later. The Ministry provided Wolfsbane now, an official delivering it and standing by to make sure the lycanthrope drank his dose like a good little Werewolf. It tasted considerably better than the awful sludge Snape used to brew, but it didn't work nearly as well and left Lupin feeling ill for days.

Two days after the full moon, Lupin finally dragged himself out of bed and down to his garden, hoping the hot sun would bake some of the pain from his joints and malaise from his insides. He weeded for a bit on his knees at the edge of the kitchen garden, trying to root a bindweed out from the aubergines. In the few days he'd been laid up it had taken advantage and was growing faster than the vegetables, winding itself around stalks and leaves.

He tired quickly though, and soon flopped over on his back, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes against the sun. Almost immediately, his exhausted body slipped into sleep.

_He was running. Running and searching and terrified, and they were chasing him. Long, dark halls that looked like they belonged in the bowels of the Ministry, lit by random, flickering torches. Torches that sometimes went out as he approached them. Most of the turnings were dead ends, most of the doors were locked and those that weren't had ghastly things behind them: Dementors, Death Eaters, Inferi that looked like James and Lily and Sirius and Dumbledore and Snape. Ghastly faces that stared at him with dead eyes, and reached for his throat with rotting fingers. Someone was calling him. He had to find them. Had to run faster, try one more door...._

"Lupin."

He awoke with a cry, sweating from the exertion of the dream and the heat of the summer sun. A shadow moved between him and the brilliance of the sky, and he squinted up, fully expecting to see the bloody specter of Severus Snape towering over him.

He was half right. It was Snape, but the clean, casually-dressed Snape of the previous week rather than the specter of his dreams. He yelped, and scrambling to his feet somewhat faster than his exhausted body could accommodate for, he stumbled. Snape reached out to catch him but he yanked back as if from a burn, landing on his backside among the primrose.

Snape scowled and stepped back, allowing Lupin to rise on his own.

"Go away." Lupin concentrated on brushing the dirt from his trousers.

"Look at me, Lupin. I'm solid; I cast a shadow. I am not a ghost."

"I don't _care_ anymore." Lupin fought down the feeling of rising panic. "Ghost, hallucination, real..." he choked a bit. "Just go away."

Snape folded his arms. "I don't understand."

Lupin stumbled to one of the chairs set in the shade of the plum tree and lowered his face to his hands. Snape sat facing him across a small wrought iron table and waited.

"I can't deal with this. You are dead. I _saw_ you." His voice broke. "I... held you. You were cold."

"I explained that."

"Yes." Lupin leaned back and closed his eyes. "You always have an explanation for everything."

"Have you eaten today?" Snape voice was suddenly sharp.

"What? No. I don't know." Lupin waved him off; he was utterly exhausted.

Without speaking, Snape rose and entered the kitchen through the back door. Hardly a minute later he was back, plunking a plate of biscuits and a mug of tea in front of Lupin.

"There's nothing in your kitchen."

Lupin shrugged. "So?"

Snape made an irritated gesture. "Eat this."

Lupin picked up a biscuit. "Some things don't change."

"What are you talking about?" Severus was scowling.

"You're still a bossy bastard, even if you _are_ a figment of my imagination." Lupin bit the wafer in half.

Snape picked up a biscuit and ate it in two bites, then washed it down with a swig of Lupin's tea.

"Figments of imagination can't eat." he said pointedly, brushing crumbs off his shirt.

"You don't understand." Lupin's smile was more of a grimace. "I don't care if you're real or not. I want you to go."

Snape only reaction was a slight flaring of his nostrils. "Why?"

"Because I can't deal with this.” Lupin got up and started to pace in agitation. “Because you're dead to me." He came to a halt by the roses and stared at nothing. “Because I've moved on.” 

"Yes, I can see that." Snape's voice dripped sarcasm.

" _Go away._ " Lupin rounded on Snape, his voice cracking in anger, then, his whole body sagging, he turned away again. "Just go away."

Snape stood, arms stiff at his sides, voice level with control. "Fine. But I will be back."

"I'm sure you will be." Lupin muttered as he flopped into his chair again.

"At six o'clock." Snape went on as though Lupin hadn't spoken, "I will bring food and prepare a proper meal for you, and I expect you to be cleaned up and ready to eat."

Lupin didn't bother opening his eyes. "That's very kind, I'm sure, but I doubt I can eat anything."

"Why not?"

"Ministry Wolfsbane. Makes me sick for a few days."

"A few _days?_ " Snape's voice was incredulous. "Idiots."

"No doubt." Remus felt himself slipping into a doze.

"I'll bring something for that, as well."

Lupin slept.

~~

The sun was drifting down the western sky when Lupin woke, stiff and sore from sleeping in the iron chair, but feeling more relaxed and rested than he had for a week. He took the cold tea and plate of unfinished biscuits into the kitchen, and looked around with new eyes. The place was a tip.

A couple of hours and many cleaning spells later, the house was presentable. Feeling tired, but pleased, Lupin climbed in the shower. Enjoying the scalding water, he lathered all over and washed his hair twice. It felt good to feel good for a change. After drying off, he got rid of the several days' worth of stubble on his face, managed to find some clean clothes and padded down to the kitchen to find that Snape had arrived early and was puttering about.

"You're early." Lupin felt some of his new-found equanimity slipping away.

"I came to clean up first. I see it wasn't necessary." He eyes Lupin critically. "You're feeling better."

"Mm." Lupin picked up a plump carrot and examined it. "Had a good nap."

Snape passed him a small, stoppered bottle. "Drink this; it will settle your stomach and help generally."

"That's rather vague." Lupin downed the pleasant tasting liquid and re-corked the bottle.

"Don't pretend you're interested."

Lupin felt the ghost of a smile. "Not really. Are you a good cook?"

"I do everything well."

"Of course." Lupin sighed and slouched against the wall. "Do you want me to do anything?"

Snape turned and studied him, an unreadable look on his face. "There are many things I'd like you to do, but for now, just stay out of the way."

"I shall set the table then, and observe and learn."

Snape snorted.

Dinner was a hearty mutton stew full of vegetables and herbs, a salad of fresh greens, and bread still warm from the bakery in town. Afters consisted of cheese and fruit, and Lupin was stuffed and as near content as he'd been in a long time when he moved to the living room couch. Snape followed with two steaming mugs.

Lupin sniffed the fragrant steam. "What is it?"

Snape just gave him a look and settled into the old armchair across from Lupin. "Have you accepted the fact that I'm real?"

Lupin sipped his drink, studying Snape carefully. "It does seem the most likely explanation. But if you are alive, why on earth are you here now? Where have you been, and why didn't you stay there?"

Snape set his drink aside, crossed his legs and steepled his fingers under his chin. "My entire life I've fought and clawed to get somewhere, to make up for my mistakes, to repay debts, to fulfill promises I never wanted to make. I've fought _for_ things, _against_ things, with others and frequently with myself. With the demise of the Dark Lord, it all ended. All the struggling, the lying, the spying, the deaths. I did not expect to live. I _certainly_ did not expect anyone to mourn me."

Lupin snorted. "The entire Wizarding World mourned you once Potter got the story out."

"No." Snape shook his head. "They may have celebrated my accomplishments, but no one mourned me. No one but you."

"And how would you know that?" Lupin pressed his lips together. Really, it wasn't like he said anything to anyone.

"I contacted Minerva." Snape stared at the floor. "I wanted to know how it had ended. Not just for the Wizarding World, that was in all the papers, but for... the people involved."

"Since when did you care about people?"

Snape glared at him. "Don't mistake the excellent job I did as a spy for who I really am, Lupin."

There was silence as Lupin's mind pulled up the things he had heard from Harry, the things his heart had told him in the past.

"So?" Lupin sipped his tisane.

"So she said you were a wreck."

"And you assumed I was mourning you." Lupin was almost surprised that his voice was steady.

Snape's look softened a little. "I was always the better spy."

Lupin shrugged it off and changed the subject. "So after your resurrection, what did you do?"

"I ran. About as far as I could go, to the outskirts of a small Muggle village in New Zealand. I have an Owl Order potion business, but don't brew to the Master level as I don't want Martin Prince to attract any attention." He shrugged. "It provides a satisfactory living; my needs are few."

"And you're here now because...?"

Snape folded his hands in his lap. "Because I want more." His small smile was crooked. "I know, that's what got me into trouble in the first place, but this time, I think, is different."

"And that more is me?" Lupin couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

"I've tried others, even tried to make a couple work long term." Snape shrugged. "They all either infuriated me, or bored me to tears."

"Your memory must be damaged; I infuriated you as much as anyone."

"That was...." Snape seemed to struggle to find the words, and when they came, they were stiff. "That was due to the people you chose to be friends with. And that you chose them instead of me."

"They're long dead. I never noticed any change in you, or your behavior toward me." He sipped his drink. "Not that it matters. I have no interest in being your last resort."

" _There was a war on._ Not to mention that being a friend of mine didn't seem to be particularly conducive to one's health and longevity." Snape ground his teeth. "And you are _not_ a last resort. You are.... It's taken me a long time to come to terms with this."

"So you just decide one day to show up? To...," Lupin felt his temper rising, "Just what the _fuck_ have you been doing hanging about in my kitchen at night, anyway?"

"I didn't know how to approach you. And you really should ward your doors, you know. You're not exactly accessible, holed up all day drinking and feeling sorry for yourself. Minerva said you were disintegrating; she didn't know the half of it." Snape was stiff with indignation.

Remus felt a wave of hopelessness wash over him. If only things had been different! After several moments of silence, he shifted in his seat. "I'd have gone, you know. I'd have followed you anywhere, had you given me the smallest sign." He sighed and turned his face away. "But that was before."

"Why not now?"

Lupin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He shuddered as he finally acknowledged his feelings. "I couldn't stand to lose you again."

"Mm." Snape looked at him critically. "Well, I certainly can't make any promise other than to do my best to make things work. And you do know my best is quite good."

Lupin shook his head. "We'd kill each other."

"No." Snape's tone was thoughtful. "Maim, perhaps, but my desire to remain unnoticed will most likely over-ride any impulse to kill, no matter how annoying you are. I can't speak for _you_ of course, but I don't fear for my life."

Lupin stared at the far wall in silence. Snape got up and moved to the couch.

"Lupin. _Remus...._ " His voice was soft, his touch light on Lupin's cheek.

Lupin twitched, but didn't pull away. Snape turned his face and brushed his lips with a light kiss.

"You're very warm for a ghost." Lupin looked away again and Snape dropped his hand.

"Come with me."

A shiver went through him. "I can't."

Snape straightened up, a frown on his face. "Why not?"

"I told you...."

Snape got up and started pacing. "What's happened to you? Where's that so-called Gryffindor courage? Yes, you've lost a lot; so have I; so have others. Are you going to sit here feeling sorry for yourself until you die of apathy?

"What is so hard about leaving this?" He waved a hand around the tiny living room. "What's here for you? You have other lovers? A job? You could find work in New Zealand, you know. They're much more enlightened about _a lot_ of things than the British Ministry.

"My privacy is precious to me; surely you can appreciate that I have risked a great deal to return here. I would not do so on a whim, nor if I had not given this extensive consideration." He stopped and ran a hand through his hair. "Well? What's it to be? Are you going to take the coward's way out, or are you coming with me?"

Lupin was watching him wide-eyed. He rose to his feet and faced Snape, anger flushing his face. "You're really something, you know? You just don't give up, do you?" He laughed harshly. "First, you try to bribe me, then you try to reason with me, then you try to seduce me, now you're trying to bully me. What's next, force?"

Snape's face stiffened. "No. Never force. I have no promises to offer you, no wealth, no security. Just...." His voice faltered and he swallowed. "Just myself. I want you. I want you in my bed, I want you in my home, I want you in my life, and I will not give up until you agree to at least give me a chance."

They stared at each other in silence.

"Did you just propose to me?" Lupin's voice was a whisper.

"Whatever it takes."

"Oh." Lupin looked around slowly, seeing the place clearly for the first time since he'd moved in. It was shabby and sterile and... lonely. He took a deep breath. "I'll just go pack then, shall I?"

Snape's face held a look of fierce triumph. And something else. "Don't be long."

_________________________ ~*~ _________________________


End file.
